


why not both?

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Banter, Blow Jobs, Double Penetration, Double Vaginal Penetration, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Gangbang, Identity Issues, M/M, Messy, Punishment, Sibling Incest, Trans Character, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 05:51:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14948780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Thor sees a woman in the brothel he and the Warriors Three are drinking in, and he recognises "her" as his brother, Loki. Seeking to embarrass Loki out of appearing in public in such a way - unknown to the Warriors Three - he joins Fandral in attempting a seduction...And to his surprise and mounting guilt, she assents.





	why not both?

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: maybe some thorki where loki is pretending to be sb else, and thor knows that it's him and decides to fuck him, but loki doesn't realise thor knows? so big dub con

 Thor knows because he spies the tell-tale shimmer at Loki’s wrist as he adjusts his bracelet, but that is the shapeshift’s only flaw. He has been watching Loki for an hour now, doing naught more than quietly speak with a few women in the corner of the tavern, and he seems… Relaxed. Comfortable.

Loki’s brown hair cascades in easy, curling waves down to his midback, a few braids keeping the bulk of it away from his face. His skin is rosy and pink, his lips plump and smiling, and his eyes are hazel, catching the light of the fire in the hearth; he wears a bustier that accentuates a heaving bosom, and his soft blue skirts curl about his knees.

He oughtn’t be so bold. Oughtn’t put himself in a brothel so close to Asgard’s capital, where anybody might catch him – and Thor might forgive his brother’s oddities, forgive it when Loki wishes to play at being a snake, or a wild cat, or a woman, but he oughtn’t do it where he might be _caught_. And the face he’s chosen is pretty, the gaze sultry, the figure distinct. Thor knows immediately what punishment to engender.

“Fandral,” Thor murmurs. Fandral glances up from his book of poetry, which he had been leisurely reading – the four of them, he, Fandral, Volstagg and Hogun, are drinking here for now, for Volstagg has recently managed to feud with the _four_ tavern-keepers in Asgard’s city, all at once, for different reasons. “That woman keeps trying to catch a glimpse of you.”

Not true. Loki hasn’t noticed them, in truth, Thor is certain of that: the four of them are sequestered in a nook of tavern, where they might see out, but where they themselves are somewhat shadowed. It provides them a comfortable privacy to speak on their own matters, without anyone bothering the famed Warriors Three, and his highness Prince Thor.

“ _Really_?” Fandral asks, his lips twitching, and he claps Thor upon the shoulder, immediately moving across the room. He drops to his knees at Loki’s feet, and although across the tavern Thor cannot hear him, he can see that Fandral is reading an ode from his chapbook, reading smoothly, and prettily.

To Thor’s surprise, Loki does not immediately kick Fandral away, or move to flee. Instead, after what seems to be a quiet “excuse me” to the women he had been speaking with, he smiles, his hazel eyes glittering, and he leans forward, reaching down. Thor feels his breath hitch as a slender, gentle hand with nails painted black cups Fandral’s cheek, and he sees Loki’s painted lips move.

Fandral is upon his feet, and Loki leans right against his chest, his hands splayed over Fandral’s light shirt. Loki has made this form much shorter than ordinary, and he is forced to look up at Fandral’s face, which Fandral, of course, does not mind. Fandral is speaking and speaking, curling an artful, easy hand in Loki’s hair, and Thor sees Loki laugh, leaning into the touch.

Fandral can see right down into Loki’s bosom like this, which is perhaps why he selected the form, and Loki is _delighted_. Thor can see it in the shine of his eyes, the curve of his lips. Loki wasn’t merely being bold for the sake of it, then – he _wanted_ to be seduced, and by Fandral—

Jealousy bursts in Thor’s chest, and he stands.

Slipping across the room, he moves forward, and he sees Fandral’s surprise, that Thor should point out a woman and then come for her himself, but it is nothing like _Loki’s_ expression. His smile fades immediately, dropping from his face like a stone, and he looks at Thor with fear and uncertainty abrupt in his eyes – yes. _This_ will be the punishment, then, if Loki has secretly desired Fandral. Watch him flee when his own _brother_ seems to have fallen for his act, and wishes to partake of his form.

“Fandral,” Thor murmurs, slinging his arm on the younger man’s shoulder, and immediately Fandral reciprocates, his hand slipping about Thor’s back, although his form is stiff. “Pray, what is the name of this _delicious_ parcel you have happened upon?”

“Yrja, your highness,” Loki says with an uncertain curtsey. His voice is soft and musical, lilting and feminine indeed. How far, Thor wonders, does his _femininity_ go?

“Yrja,” Thor repeats, and he reaches out. Loki’s eyes widen as Thor’s broad, calloused palm touches against his cheek. “And why, pray, do you waste your charms upon my friend Fandral here, when there are so many men in this room that might desire you?” Fandral laughs, shoving Thor in the back, but Thor’s gaze is fixed upon Loki’s face, his eyes intent and full of shining desire.

Loki swallows, glancing around wildly for just a second, and here, Thor thinks, _here_ , he shall flee…

“Oh, well, sire,” Loki says, trying to force a sultry element into his woman’s voice. “How is a girl to choose?”

“Indeed,” Fandral murmurs. “She’s a wise girl, Thor – she doesn’t wish to pick between us so _soon_.”

“Why not both?” Thor asks, and he feels Fandral _thrill_ beside him. Fandral is the adventurous sort, really and truly, but what he honestly _delights_ in his bringing a woman pleasure, and undoubtedly he is already surging at the thought of having a second hand to please this Yrja to her fullest. Thor keeps his expression entirely innocent, but his fingers draw up to play in Fandral’s hair, dragging his fingernails neatly over Fandral’s scalp, and Fandral _melts_ against his side _,_ his eyes fluttering closed, his lips parted. This is bold indeed of Thor, particularly within the bounds of Asgard – to lie with a man is not unheard of, but it is something done in the heat of battle, when blood is hot and emotions are high. This, however, is equally forgivable in the eyes of the Æsir: he and Fandral are putting on a _show_ , to better woo a beautiful woman.

Yrja’s pretty face is a mask of hesitant uncertainty, and then the lips quirk into a sultry smile. “Of course, your highness,” Loki says softly, his eyes alight with a plan. “Let me just ask for a room—”

“We don’t need a room,” Thor murmurs, still stroking in idle circles over Fandral’s scalp. Fandral’s warmth is a pliant heat against Thor’s side, and Thor is distantly aware that if he chose to, if this was a true act of hedonism and _not_ intended to show his brother the consequences of his actions, that he could probably take Fandral for himself. It isn’t that Fandral lusts after Thor at every consequence, or that he has long-harboured a secret desire for him. Fandral makes no secrets of anything. He is simply free, as free as a Ljósálf, and he would gladly ride Thor’s cock if Thor asked it of him – even gladder, Thor expects, if Thor demanded it. “We have a table just there, in the corner… This is a brothel, after all, Yrja. Who would bat an eye?”

The mischievous light in Loki’s eyes fades as he realises he will not be able to purchase a room and slip away. All he has to do, Thor muses, is politely refuse. For all manner of reasons, a woman might refuse a union, might move away, particularly when propositioned by two men at once, and in the middle of a _tavern_ , but no, no. Loki is too frightened of the suspicion, it seems, because he nods his pretty head and begins to follow Thor back.

Thor ought stop this.

Thor _must_ stop this – evidently, Loki doesn’t realise that Thor knows, but this doesn’t mean that they can _do_ this. To allow Loki to fuck just Fandral in the midst of a public gathering would be unspeakable – but to fuck Loki himself? Loki’s own _brother_? Even in this feminine form, unrecognisable?

 _He must want this_ , says a voice in the back of Thor’s mind. _He must want this, on some level, or he would find some other protestation. He wants you as much as he wants Fandral – if not more_.

Thor leans in, ghosting his breath hot over Fandral’s ear, and he feels Fandral _shiver_. “Bold tonight, your highness,” Fandral murmurs, with no small amount of glee.

“You take her mouth,” Thor murmurs. “I’ll take her cunt.”

“Oh, I _love_ this Thor,” Fandral says in an undertone, squeezing Thor tightly. “He should come and play with me _more often_.” Thor laughs, ignoring the self-loathing that blooms within him, and he and Fandral part, slipping to either side of the little cubby hole.

“And who is _this_ enchanting creature?” Volstagg asks, looking up from the game of checkers he is winning against Hogun.

“This is Yrja,” Fandral murmurs. Loki’s gaze flit betweens Volstagg’s grin and Hogun’s detachedly curious expression, and before he can say anything, Fandral captures his mouth. Thor watches as Fandral’s lips catch against Loki’s, watches his golden tongue slip into Loki’s mouth, and Loki _moans_ , the sound low and muffled against Fandral’s mouth, as Fandral grips at her backside through the skirt. “On the table, darling. That’s it, that’s it…” Loki sits back upon the table, and his legs part slightly to allow him better purchase, even as Fandral draws away from his mouth and begins to mouth over his neck, his fingers moving to the fastenings of Loki’s bustier.

Thor slowly takes his seat beside Hogun once more, and he takes Loki by the calves and _pulls_ , dragging him over the wood, and Loki gasps, scrambling uncertainly for a second before Fandral catches his right earlobe into his mouth, and then he _shudders_. Thor pushes up Loki’s skirts, and in one swift movement he snaps the fabric of his briefs, throwing them aside.

Loki heaves in a gasp, and he stares down at Thor with wide open eyes, shame plain on his features. “It’s not too late to draw away, you know,” Thor murmurs, even as his palms slide slow over the flesh of Loki’s thighs. Fandral drops the bustier aside, and Loki’s breasts, which are fat and pale and topped with pink peaks, are let free. Immediately, Fandral stands just behind Loki, grabbing them in his hands and beginning to rolls the nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making Loki wriggle. “You could still back down.”

“I’m— _Agh_ —” Loki whimpers as Fandral _squeezes_ , his hips giving a little jerk. “I’m fine.”

“She’s eager,” Hogun comments, dryly.

Thor sets his jaw, and slowly bows his head. He begins by dragging his lips up the side of Loki’s thigh, feeling the way he gasps and shudders, feeling the way he stiffens at the sensation of Thor’s hot breath ghosting over his skin, Thor’s tongue touching against his skin… Thor pushes up Loki’s skirts.

“Last chance,” he murmurs lowly. Loki is staring down at him, his brown eyes wide, and Thor glances from Loki to Loki’s _cunny_. It is utterly hairless, with a fat mound, and his entrance is already glistening with wetness, glistening… For Thor. And that is not all. “Why, what is _this_?” Thor demands, and he takes between his thumb and forefinger Loki’s clitoris, which is two inches thick and three inches long, with a tapered end to it— Loki moans, his hips jerking at the tightness of Thor’s grip, and a little wetness comes to the clit’s head, as if it is a little cock itself.

Arousal pools in Thor’s belly, and before he can say aught else, he dips his head, dragging the little cock into his mouth and _sucking_.

Loki screams. He arches off the table and into Thor’s mouth, and Thor tastes him, acidic and tangy and playing over Thor’s tongue. So small, so _tiny_ – and yet when he feels the clenching cunt against his own chin, desperate and open… It’s almost the perfect accessory.

He looks up to see Fandral leaning over Loki’s chest, one of Loki’s nipples between his teeth as he lightly nibbles on the pink bud, and Thor is delighted at the swell of Loki’s other breast in Fandral’s hand, the creamy flesh squeezed tightly against Fandral’s palm, bursting from between his fingers. Thor releases Loki’s clit, instead dipping lower to drag his tongue through the gathering slick at his entrance, and he feels Loki wriggle, feels his cunt juices slide out over Thor’s chin, wetting his beard.

This is his brother. This is Thor’s _brother_ … And he is so eager he is dripping.

“Have you ever borne milk, my dear?” Fandral is asking, and Loki whines, shaking his head. Fandral chuckles, dragging his thumbs over each of his nipples. “Oh, wouldn’t you look a picture, with milk running from those bountiful breasts and down your belly? Oh, I jest, I jest… I would waste not a drop.” And then Fandral is kissing him again, leaving Loki grinding down against Thor’s tongue, distracting him from Thor himself—

No. No, can’t have that.

Thor unbuckles his breeches, standing up, and he draws the length from within, giving it a cursory stroke to ensure he is fully hard. Thor is the best endowed of their band, and they all know it: Thor has a good seven inches to hand, and most important is the _girth_ , around which most maidens cannot close their hand entirely. Yrja’s hands, the slender things Loki has chosen for his purposes tonight – undoubtedly, they could not form a fist about Thor’s cock.

He lines his head up with Loki’s entrance, gently nudging, and he is rewarded with what he had desired: Loki comes away from Fandral’s mouth with a groan of shock and horror, staring down at Thor’s cock between her legs.

“Oh, your highness,” Loki says desperately, trying to scrabble for purchase and finding himself pinned in place, with Fandral’s hands tight against his tits and Thor’s grip hard on his thighs, pinning them down the table. “More— I’m not quite… You’re too big, _so_ big, I don’t think I can—”

In one smooth movement, Thor shoves his hips forward. He can feel the impossible tightness around him, the way Loki’s muscles are forced to give way beneath his strength, and his cunt lets out a wet _slap_ as Thor fucks him open all at once. Desperately, Loki’s muscles are clenching with the pain, trying to force out this too-large intruder, but Loki is sopping wet inside, and Loki himself is _shuddering_. He is whining in pain, even as he presses his breasts further into Fandral’s attentions, and if he could get his legs free he would undoubtedly be trying to kick Thor off, trying to let his pretty little cunt escape the onslaught.

Too late.

“That was cruel,” Fandral chides him without feeling, but even as he scolds, one hand slips down to Lok’s belly, pressing down on the tender flesh just above his pubic bone, and Loki gasps, his eyes widening, his pretty lips parting. “Oh,” Fandral whispers in Loki’s ear. “There he is.” Loki punches out a wrecked, desperate keen of noise, and Thor remains right where he is, flush with Loki’s cunny still clenching and shifting around his cock, tighter than it ought be, his hands stroking over Loki’s quivering thighs. This is a punishment, after all, and he will not let Loki leave here without a _soreness_ within him.

“Too big, is it?” Thor asks, amused. “The Midgardians worship me as a god of fertility, Yrja – did you truly expect anything else?” Loki bites down on his plump lower lip.

“Please,” he says in a tiny voice. “ _Please_ move.”

“Oh, not yet,” Thor says smoothly. “Your lovely little hole is keeping me quite warm.”

“It’s too _big_ ,” Loki says, his eyes glittering. “If you will only ease the way—”

“Feels the perfect size to me,” Thor replies. “I did give you several chances to retreat.” Loki whimpers, and Fandral quietly chuckles.

“Oh, you’ll enjoy it, my dear,” he promises softly. “Why don’t I— Why don’t I ease the way? Hm?”

“Ease the way?” Loki repeats.

“Volstagg, would you?” Fandral asks casually, and Loki gasps as Fandral releases his breasts, allowing Volstagg to take hold of them instead. Fandral slips forward, and with no ado whatsoever, he dips his head, taking Loki’s clit into his mouth.

The sensation is phenomenal.

Fandral’s hair tickles against Thor’s belly as his tongue plays over Loki’s clit, and he can feel Fandral’s lips just over the root of his cock, but better still is the way _Loki_ reacts. He whines and he gasps, his legs shivering, but his cunt squeezes greedily around Thor’s cock, as if desperately desiring more of him, so smooth and _soft_ inside, so eager despite how he protests.

“You take her mouth, Volstagg,” Thor murmurs magnanimously, and _that_ makes Loki jolt, but he doesn’t pull away, too resigned to his fate. Volstagg’s cock isn’t quite so long as Thor’s own, but it’s just as thick, and Thor watches greedily as Loki’s head tips back, his painted lips smearing lipstick over Volstagg’s cock as he takes it, _gagging_ —

And then taking it all.

He takes Volstagg all the way to the hilt, the apple of his throat bobbing as he does so, and Thor inhales at the sight of it, at the column of Loki’s throat and his bare chest, the way Loki tilts back and just _takes_ it. Fandral sucks a little more at his clit, dancing patterns over Loki’s belly, and Thor shifts himself, slowly drawing himself out. Wetness clings to him, thick and slick, and he catches Fandral’s shoulder, letting him draw back before he thrusts forward. Loki groans, the sound muffled by the prodigious length of Volstagg’s cock, and Thor spreads his hands on Loki’s hips, beginning to thrust into him properly. Fandral has a grin on his face as he plays over Loki’s clit with his fingers instead, and Thor can see the little twitches of Loki’s body, feel the cant of his hips back against Thor, the greedy draw of _more_ of Thor inside him, hear the wet sound as Volstagg gently thrusts into his mouth.

“It’s your move,” Hogun says, audibly bored. Hogun doesn’t like to share women – this is a long-established fact between the four of them.

“C3 through G7,” Volstagg says distractedly, and Hogun stares down at the checkers board, then _groans_ , putting his head in his hands. Thor and Fandral laugh, and something about the movement of Thor’s hips must be pleasurable indeed, because Loki _writhes_ , whimpering around the cock spearing his lips open.

“Do it harder,” Fandral murmurs, dragging his fingers over the length of Loki’s collarbone. “She wants it harder.”

 _He probably does_ , Thor thinks to himself, and so he draws his cock almost entirely from Loki’s cunt, then slams back in one hard movement: Loki arches off the table with a muffled _scream_ , and Thor chuckles. Gathering up Loki’s legs, he pushes them up against his shoulders, trapping his breasts against his chest, and he begins to thrust in earnest, fucking Loki hard enough to give him bruises for days.

Every drive inside is smooth and supple, Loki’s cunny like velvet around him, and he feels Loki clench and shudder, feels him _squirm_ —

Volstagg is coming. Thor can hear the messy, ugly noise as Loki gags, then he sees him swallow. Volstagg is perfunctory about it, stepping neatly to the side and putting himself away as he returned to his checkers game, and Loki looks up at Thor, white come smeared over his chin and messy on his lips.

“Isn’t she lovely?” Fandral asks softly.

“She’s filthy,” Thor replies, and he pins Loki even harder to the table, fucking him hard enough that Volstagg and Hogun lose some of their game pieces onto the ground. Loki’s eyes are dazed and defocused, and Thor can see that it’s almost impossible for him to _think_ , lovely little moans coming ragged from his desperate throat as he thinks of naught but Thor inside him. “How is it, Yrja? Still too big?”

“N-no,” Loki mumbles, and Thor raises his eyebrows.

“Is that so?”

“Wait, _no_ —” Thor drags a finger against the side of his cock, feeling where Loki’s cunny is stretched wide around him, and he sees Loki’s eyes wide and desperate, his mouth stained and his lips parted. “ _Your highness_ , I can’t, I can’t—”

“But what about Fandral, Yrja?” Thor asks softly, his tone wheedling. “Don’t you want to feel _him_ inside you too?”

“My back passage,” Loki suggests, and Thor _gasps_ , theatrically.

“But what pleasure would that bring _you_ , Yrja? We only want to ensure that you’re pleased to the _fullest_.”

“We don’t have to, my darling,” Fandral murmurs gently, his lips quirked into an easy smile. “If you think you can’t take it.” A hardness comes to Loki’s brown eyes. Thor wants to ruin him, he realises: he wants to leave Loki with come running down his thighs and bruises all over his body, wants to leave Loki limping home, so that he never dares take on a form like this _again_.

“I can take it,” he insists, sharp, indignant. Fandral and Thor laugh as one: Thor delights in how easy his brother’s buttons are to _push_ , even now – and Fandral delights in a woman’s indignation at being set such a challenge. Thor heaves Loki off the table with ease, impaling him on Thor’s cock, and Loki _wails_ , his face pressing against Thor’s chest and his arms scrabbling at the front of Thor’s tunic. Easily, Thor supports Loki’s weight, fucking him shallowly as Fandral drags his mouth over the pink expanse of Loki’s back, two fingers slipping between Loki’s legs.

Loki cries out like he’s being split in _two_ as just one of Fandral’s fingers slips inside him, pushing the working muscle outward, and Thor and Loki gasp together as they feel Fandral’s signet ring _pop_ into the muscle, assisting him in opening it outward a little more as a second finger slips inside, and Loki whines.

“It’ll never fit,” he says brokenly, his breathing shallow, and Fandral chuckles, pressing a kiss to his neck.

“Are you certain?” Fandral asks softly. “Perhaps I’m smaller than you expect.” Loki groans, but he tips his head back and into it as Fandral sucks a lurid mark on crook of his shoulder, and there it is – a third finger, carefully working in alongside Thor’s cock, slowly scissoring and forcing Loki’s cunny to _stretch_ , to accommodate them each. “Lift her up, Thor, just so that your head is just inside her… Yes, that’s it.”

And then Thor can feel Fandral’s prick against his own, feel its shorter length and shorter girth, lined up against Loki’s open entrance. Carefully, he lowers Loki down, and he feels the awful shift of it, feel Loki’s slick cunt with Fandral and Thor pressing inside at once, and then they’re just—

 _Inside_.

This is ecstasy. Thor can feel every pathway in his head _sing_ with pleasure at the obscene tightness of it, the jolt and the pulse of Fandral’s cock beside his own, their heads pressed head, and then the tight, satin grip of Loki’s cunt around them both.

When Fandral bottoms out, leaving a few inches of Thor still to slip inside, Loki is breathing heavily, his legs gripping tight about Thor’s waist, his hands spread against Thor’s chest, and Fandral’s hand slips between them, beginning to play over and tweak at the rod of Loki’s tiny cock, his _clit_ , and Loki whimpers.

He says something indistinguishable, and Thor and Fandral share a glance over his shoulder. “What’s that, love?” Fandral asks softly, encouragingly.

“ _More_ ,” Loki whispers. Thor grins, and he slides in the rest of the way, straightening his back and shifting _past_ Fandral, so that he’s seated fully inside Loki’s cunt, and Loki keens. They can’t thrust properly, not with the both of them like this, but Loki clenches tightly about them both as they give shallow shifts of their hips, and Thor can feel Fandral’s fingers working _furiously_ on Loki’s clit, see him kissing all over Loki’s neck, his shoulder—

Loki comes with a gasping whine, and his clit _ejaculates_ , a little whiteness hot on Fandral’s fingers and between Thor and Loki’s belly, and Fandral lets out a sound of delight, his hands moving to play with Loki’s tits once more.

When Fandral comes, it’s a strange situation, his come spurting against Thor’s own cock, and then he slips down, and Thor smiles down at Loki, showing all his teeth, and he doesn’t see the slightest bit of fear in Loki’s eyes this time – he sees _excitement_ , and desire.

Thor fucks Loki hard against the wall, his hands pinned above his head, Thor’s cock hammering into him, and Loki comes _apart_ , wailing and moaning, barely producing a single word as his skirt is left awkwardly fluttering about his waist, and when Thor comes inside him, he sees Loki’s eyes _widen_ , feels him flutter and clench at the sensation of the hot burst within him—

Loki stumbles when Thor initially sets him back on his feet, and Fandral – ever the gentleman – steps forward with a handkerchief, carefully dabbing at his mouth before setting Loki’s bustier gently against his chest.

“We should do this again,” Fandral murmurs in Loki’s ear. “Just us, next time.”

“I’d like that,” Loki mumbles hazily, and once more, jealousy flares within Thor’s chest – but only for a moment. He says nothing, and merely watches as Loki moves swiftly from the brothel, watched by a dozen eyes: come is visible where it slides down his thighs, and Thor presses his lips together as he tucks himself back within his breeches.

“That was lovely,” Fandral says, conversationally. “Now, with that interruption aside, Thor… Why don’t you read my new sonnet?”

“You are incorrigible,” Hogun says, and Fandral laughs.

“I am indeed, my friend,” he agrees proudly, and Thor takes the stupid chapbook.

\--

It is some days later that he finds Loki in Iðunn’s orchard, bent over a barrel of apples and oranges, frowning at the book in his hand. He looks from the barrel to the book, from the book to the barrel, and then frowns, dragging a hand through his hair. Loki has been walking on shaky legs these past days, but his resolve has remained strong at meal times and in the arena alike – the only time he had balked at an ordinary activity, such as when Hogun had suggested a horse ride early the previous morn, and Loki had feigned a sudden sprain to his ankle.

Said ankle, of course, is now fine.

“What are you doing, Loki?” Thor asks, conversationally. Loki glances at him, and Thor doesn’t miss the ghost of shame, uncertainty, that shines in his eyes before he turns back to the barrel.

“I’m trying a new spell… There shouldn’t be oranges here. There ought only be apples.”

“Why not have both?” Thor asks, and Loki’s head whips around, his eyes comically wide. Thor keeps his expression measured and innocent, his eyebrows slowly raising. “Have I offended your sensibilities in asking such a question, brother?”

“No,” Loki says hurriedly. “No, no…” And then the mask is back in place, impossible to break.

Yes, they can both act, he and Thor… But for once, Thor has the upper hand. He steps marginally closer, so that his crotch is just behind Loki’s arse, and he leans over to peer into the barrel, feeling the way Loki _shivers_ at his touch.

Perhaps his punishment had been more of an _incentive_ … But there are other ways to deter his brother’s shapeshifting into untoward forms. Thor needs only to discover them.

**Author's Note:**

> [Hit me up](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/ask). Requests always open.


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